Because We Are of the Same Mind

We do not talk much
about certain things.
Not that I would name
them here, either.
Easier sometimes
to let the lips be still
or find other ways for them
to amuse themselves.
But I eavesdrop on your
breath and there
I’ve thought to hear
the sound of aspen trees
on the ridge, or perhaps
autumnal sun and the slow
way it leans into the canyon,
or maybe crazy jazz angels
riffing it up. If I’ve heard
them, I’ve made them up. When
I listen, I only hear your breath
linking what hasn’t been said.
We exchange messages this way—
a whole language with no verbs,
no nouns, no determiners, just breath.
There is sunrise and moon
in the silence. We both hear
what no one else could guess.

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